


Wolf Pack

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Forgiveness, Found Family, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rooftop brooding, hurt geralt, witcher family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley
Summary: No matter how stupid a wolf is, the pack will always welcome him back. Even the newest addition to the family can forgive when faced with the facts. Namely that Geralt is an utter twit.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 52
Kudos: 1367





	Wolf Pack

Winter was around the corner. Jaskier was on his own and trying to figure out which countess or earl to approach for lodgings when he spotted a familiar figure. Or rather, the person wasn’t familiar at all. But the brooding in a dark corner of an inn was a habit he had seen too much of with Geralt. Who he resolutely wasn’t thinking about.

Despite himself, Jaskier approached after his set. Unlike the last time he encountered a witcher, this time he was being pelted with coins and cheers rather than bread and curses.

“You’re the bard,” the witcher greets him before Jaskier got a chance to say anything. “Come join me.”

Well, with an invitation like that, Jaskier would have been a fool to resist. This witcher, Eskel, seemed a lot more verbose than Geralt. He happily shared stories and ale with Jaskier. To the point, it was almost like reconnecting with a long lost friend rather than meeting someone new.

“You know,” Eskel laughed into his mug, “Vesemir has been looking for you. If you want to spend a winter at Kaer Morhen, you would be very welcome there.”

It seemed that Jaskier’s woes for the winter were solved. Though he did have one question, just a small query about who else would be there. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed to hear that Geralt rarely returned for the winter.

That was how Jaskier found himself travelling to the old castle, Eskel led him through the passes and over rickety bridges until they were standing by what had probably once been a magnificent drawbridge. It was not run down and could do with a bit of paint. Jaskier had been to enough fancy places to know that.

But the spirit of the place was still breathtaking. And Jaskier realised this was where Geralt grew up. He had to giggle at the prospect of baby Geralt running around. If witchers in training were allowed to run around that is. Which was a terribly depressing thought so Jaskier shut it down. Instead, he focused on the surroundings.

“I see you succeeded in your contract,” an older man said and Jaskier eyed him up with interest. A pouch of coin was tossed towards Eskel who hummed in pleasure. And Jaskier’s heart sank, he had been a contract for Eskel and nothing more. He thought back to all the late night chats and felt cheated in a way, he thought he’d truly made a friend. A hand ruffling his hair pulled him from his morose thoughts.

“Chin up, the others will be just as delighted to meet you. But Vesemir asked us to bring you here. And I won the race.”

Idly, Jaskier wondered whether Geralt had been taking part in the great hunt. Probably not. Because as well as Jaskier knew Geralt, the witcher knew the bard just as well so would have had no trouble finding him. Something dark and bitter burned through Jaskier at that thought and he quashed it ruthlessly.

His presence at Kaer Morhen was quite a celebrated thing it turned out. Vesemir had wanted to thank him personally for doing so much in the way of improving the perception of witchers. But it wasn’t just Vesemir. Eskel had a certain fondness for Jaskier, had grown to appreciate the bard over their journey together. When Lambert arrived, he was a little standoffish to start with and growled when Eskel teased him.

“He’s only a sourpuss because he didn’t win the race to find you,” Vesemir added with a smile as Jaskier watched the two witchers seemingly have an all out brawl. It ended with Eskel on his back because he was laughing too hard. Above him, Lambert cracked a smile and Jaskier had an epiphany. Witchers weren’t all doom and gloom. They were allowed to feel things like friendship, happiness, joy. He couldn’t help but wonder where he went so wrong with Geralt that all the other seemed to feel was...well, it was sometimes impossible to tell with him.

But the others were a delight. They joked, told stories, paid attention to Jaskier when he spoke, even asked him to sing. Coen even had a few suggestions for songs, helping figure out lyrics when Jaskier got stuck. It was a family and they had welcomed Jaskier with open arms. So he repaid them the only way he could. Showing them all the ways life could be a delight.

The first thing was the inappropriate use of spells. Igni to warm up a bath. Not just a bath. If they all stood around a large circle around the outdoor water butt and cast together, they ended up with the most delightful outdoor tub they all fit in. Plus, the first time Vesemir saw Eskel use aard to pass Lambert the salt at the dinner table, Jaskier wasn’t sure whether he was about to be killed or kissed. In the end, neither but Vesemir did laugh. Especially when he used the spell to nudge Jaskier’s own plate away from him each time he tried to spear something on his fork.

Winter was almost upon them, the days were short and cold. They were getting ready to lock up the castle for the season. Nobody mentioned the soft, sad looks they cast the empty chair around the table, obviously the spot Geralt would occupy when he was there.

“Well, it’s almost a full house again,” Vesemir sighed. There were spongy pieces of folded cloth between his fingers to keep them spread while Jaskier painted his nails.

“It is a full house this year,” Lambert said gruffly as he walked past. “Spotted a late idiot struggling through the snow, leading a horse a few hours back. Should be here any minute.”

Sure enough, the doors banged open and Geralt stomped in, hair blending in with the snow and frost on his shoulders. His eyes landed on Jaskier who stared back with a wide gaze. Nobody said anything then Geralt growled and stormed off to who knew where.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s always been a bit of a tantrum filled child,” Vesemir tried to reassure Jaskier who visibly deflated.

Dinner was a strained affair, while Geralt didn’t scorn tradition and actually joined them at the table, he didn’t join in the jovial idiocy that went on around him. The one time Eskel dared to aard his plate, he slammed a hand down on it and glared at the other witcher.

“Gee, learn the meaning of fun,” Eskel muttered darkly and rolled his eyes.

While everybody tried not to be affected by the dark cloud that was Geralt, it was hard not to. He refused to join in with anything that wasn’t serious witcher business. Training was a sombre affair, gone were the peals of laughter and Jaskier didn’t sit to watch, let alone join in if the mood took. The shared bath was awkward when Geralt walked past on his way to Roach and ignored them. When he walked in on Jaskier kneading a knot from Lambert’s back, he spun primly on his heels and walked straight back out. That evening, he didn’t turn up for dinner.

“He’s just a sourpuss because he doesn’t have your attention. And now you know witchers can be fun!” Eskel waved his hand dismissively. “If he got that stick out of his butt, he might actually join in for once.”

So, Jaskier concluded, Geralt was an outsider even amongst his own family. It only became more obvious when Jaskier decided he fancied a steam room because it was good for his voice and got Coen and Lambert to heat enough water to make one. Eskel joined and even Vesimir ambled in, pretending to not realise just what he was walking into. But he stayed, sitting down on a boulder happily.

Nobody expected the door to open and Geralt to step in. There was a moment of stunned silence. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. A muttered cast of igni had more steam billowing through the room and Geralt stayed.

It was still silent and tense but there was a glimmer of hope as Jaskier followed Geralt with his eyes when he left.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Vesmir sighed. “That mess in Blaviken all but broke him. None of us saw him for a good decade after that.”

“I miss him,” Eskel sighed and Lambert grunted in agreement.

That night, Jaskier couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his room but ended up wandering through the castle. Up and up through the towers he went until he found a hole in the ceiling of one and pulled himself through, intent on watching the stars for a while. Only, he wasn’t alone. Geralt watched him silently, huddled in a throw on the roof.

“Mind if I join?” Jaskier asked softly and got a shake of head in reply. “Thanks. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“No djinn to grant a request this time?” It was meant as a joke but the guilty way Geralt’s eyes slipped to Jaskier’s throat suggested it wasn’t a funny one.

They sat in silence until Jaskier drifted off. He woke up in bed, bundled in a throw that definitely hadn’t been in his room earlier. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to return it.

This time, he was equipped to get to the roof with not just a throw plus a spare, but also some wine and nuts as a snack. Only, Geralt wasn’t there that night. Jaskier tried not to be disappointed. After a few hours and drinking the wine by himself, Jaskier shuffled back into the tower and had every intent of stashing his treasures in a corner for another night. Only, he sat down for a quick break, dizzy with wine and ended up curling up. He woke up in his own bed and a glass of water next to it to boot.

The apology never really came but Geralt was trying in his own way. When Jaskier was lamenting a good barber, he silently left his shaving kit in a place it would be found. He didn’t even draw the line when Jaskier cooed over finding some winter flowers and, not really paying much attention, began to braid them into his hair. Everyone else in the room stared, Geralt’s eyes were fixed to the table but he didn’t stop Jaskier. Even when he started singing as he worked.

“He’s happier when you’re around,” Lambert muttered one morning when he and Jaskier were working on breakfast together.

“Trust me when I say that you’re mistaken. I brought him nothing but misery,” Jaskier replied with a sad smile.

“Ah, the mountain top,” came the reply. “We all heard about that. I think Vesemir has talked to him about it soon after he came back.”

Jaskier didn’t know what to say to that so he shrugged. “It was a while ago. I learned my lesson from it. And I’ll be sure not to repeat it again.”

There was the sound of someone turning and leaving behind them and while Jaskier could guess who it had been, he didn’t want to think about what it meant.

They didn’t see Geralt for days after that. Then Roach turned up outside the castle and worry spread through the witchers. Snow was coming down heavily, there was no way anyone could navigate the passes out of the mountains. It was dangerous, even to a witcher.

They ventured out, tried to find Geralt but it was hopeless. All they could do was hope that wherever he had got to, he was keeping safe. At night, Jaskier climbed onto the roof to think. That was when he spotted the fire in the distance. He ran through the castle hollering until the others were awake and saw it too. It was too dangerous to go out at night but the next morning Lambert and Vesemir were saddling up and riding out to where they had need the fire.

Returning that evening, Vesemir looked rather grouchy. Lambert had Geralt’s arm slung around his shoulder and was helping him limp in. Nobody said anything when Geralt was deposited in front of the great fire in the dining room. He visibly gritted his teeth but refused to ask for any help.

In the end, Jaskier settled in front of him wordlessly and began to work his boot off, hissing in sympathy at the sight of a blackened bruise that spread down Geralt’s foot and up his leg too. Still, Jaskier simply bandaged it up, threading a splint through the wraps to offer a little more support.

“Thank you,” Geralt said at long last.

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier shrugged. “It’s what-” he was going to say friends, but he and Geralt weren’t friends. “-what decent people do for each other.”

“You’re my friend. And the only shit you shovel it what I pile on top of you.”

Well, that was unexpected. Jaskier smiled bitterly. As much as he had wanted an apology all those months ago, it didn’t feel so necessary now. Not when he’d seen Geralt with everyone else too.

“It’s just as well I have two hands. I can shovel more.” He tried to joke but it fell somewhat flat. And Geralt was abortedly reaching for him, a gesture that Jaskier almost didn’t want to believe. He went willingly, sat next to Geralt but by the time he was ready to speak, Geralt had fallen asleep next to him. It was Vesemir who brought over a couple of throws and stoked the fire to keep them warm. They spent the night in the dining room and only woke when a hushed whispering argument broke out between Eskel and Lambert over breakfast.

It was a turning point. While Geralt was still awkward, he wasn’t mobile so couldn’t easily avoid the others. And, with great simplicity, Eskel plopped down on the throw at lunchtime, pressed his shoulder against Geralt’s and continued eating without a word.

That seemed to be the way forward. Jaskier watched as the other witchers slowly decide they had enough of Geralt’s self-isolating idiocy. Lambert was the one who decided they needed a bath. So, with Coen’s help, they pulled Geralt up and bundled him out into the tub.

Vesemir was the one to make Geralt’s favourites for dinner. It was a quiet acceptance of Geralt from everyone else that thawed Jaskier out. Seeing a look of hope and, on one rare occasion, the echo of a smile on Geralt, it made Jaskier believe that there was something more than a prickly ball of brooding to Geralt. Eventually, Jaskier didn't shy away from bringing his lute with him to dinner and singing some of his newest songs as after dinner entertainment. The songs even had a theme, wolves and pack life. It was something the others had vastly enjoyed so he saw no reason to hide them when they had a notorious lone wolf amongst them.

The time Jaskier wandered into the dining hall and heard soft laughter, he thought he was hearing things. It was Eskel, sat on the floor with Geralt and they were playing some kind of game that involved a couple of pucks, a crafted arch and aard to fire them through into each other's areas. While it was a game, Jaskier had quickly learned that it was also a way to refine spell work, control the force and direction of it. He had heard stories of Lambert first trying to cast it and managing to make it so large, the spell rebounded off the rubble he was practising on and sent him flying backwards. Now, he watched from a distance as Eskel was thoroughly trashing Geralt at the same and they were snickering like children over it. It was oddily domestic and Jaskier jerked when someone joined him against the wall.

"That's more the Geralt we used to know," Vesemir smiled, eyes on the two on the rugs.

The laughter and smiles dried up as soon as Vesemir and Jaskier were spotted but that was okay. They had seen that it was there, it was possible and held hope that it would return. After a few more days, Geralt was up for moving around though he still leaned heavily on things and hobbled. But he was no longer hogging the rugs in front of the fire. Feeling brave, he even tried to tussle with Lambert. It ended with Geralt repeatedly landing on his back and winded but looking quite pleased with things all the same. And by the time he cried off, citing a bruised back, the others had managed to heat up the outside tub. Coen had even managed to find some salts which coloured the water and gave off some suds which could be piled on top of heads like crowns. The bickering about who had the best crown was put to an end when Vesemir cleared his throat and showed off the magnificent bubble crown he was sporting. A soft aard blew it off and everyone other than Geralt looked to stunned to allow for any misconception as to who had been the culprit. The retaliating aard Vesemir sent Geralt's way was the start of a fight Jaskier had no hopes of winning. At least,not until he pumped water with a squeeze of his fist. And just like that, he had five curious witchers trying to learn how to make a squirt with a fist in water.

Despite everything, Jaskier still liked to sit out on the roof at night. He was a little shocked when he pulled himself up and found he wasn't alone. Geralt offered him a small, shy smile. There was a bowl of nuts and a bottle of wine next to him.

"I was wondering whether you'd like to join me?" Geralt had even brought a couple of extra throws up. And a large bowl of kindling which he now cast igni on and the warmth, more than anything else, pulled Jaskier in. He sat down and pulled one of the throws around his shoulder to keep the bite of the winter chill out. Not put off by his silence, Geralt settled back and pointed up at the sky.

"See those stars in the shape of an arrow? I always liked to imagine they pointed to where I was meant to be."

Jaskier cocked his head to the side as he looked at the stars and listened to Geralt. It was the most free and verbose the witcher had ever been around him.

"So I followed it, always going in the direction it pointed."

"Did you ever find what you hoped they promised you?"

A scoff was answer enough and Geralt shook his head. The stars took him to the edge of the continent and kept pointing beyond. But that was decades ago, almost another lifetime.

"What did you think you'd find?"

Silence descended on them as Geralt looked down, mouth pressed into a rueful smile. He took a deep breath before replying, "Home. Love. It never was where the stars pointed to though. It took me a long time to understand that." He looked up at Jaskier with a open vulnerability. There was something he was obviously trying very hard to convey but without words. And if Jaskier dared let himself hope, he could take a good guess as to what it was. But he was too jaded, still a little too hurt and needing more than insinuations and herding in the direction of maybe correct guesses. He picked up a couple of nuts and shoved them in his mouth to keep quiet.

"Thank you, for not giving up on me," Geralt finally broke. His eyes couldn't quite meet Jaskier's. "You are so much more than I could ever hope for. Or deserve."

"What do you want, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, tired of all the beating around the bush, having to second guess everything.

A soft blush dusted Geralt's cheek. "Everything I have no right to ask of you."

That just wouldn't do. Jaskier took some more nuts and stared out at the snow covered mountains around them. "You have no right to ask for my life. Everything else seems like quite fair game." Obviously, Jaskier was a bard through and through because he couldn't have come out with something more dramatic, even if he had tried. It also served well to silence Geralt who turned to stare at the fire.

"I missed you. If you'd travel with me again, share a life with me, I would be honoured."

There were so many words of venom Jaskier could spit, throw Geralt's not quite apology back in his face, list the ways the other witchers were more pleasant than him. But he didn't. Jaskier sighed tiredly. He didn't want to fight, he didn't want drama. All Jaskier wanted was for his hurting heart to heal and here he was, being offered the salve for it on a silver platter.

"I can't be cast aside again. Not so cruelly when I didn't do shit to deserve it."

"I know." Geralt's voice was soft as he agreed, eyes cast down.

Shuffling, Jaskier moved closer and wrapped half his throw around Geralt too. Usually, Geralt didn't do well with words and he understood actions better. He hoped that would be the case again.

It was yet another turning point. Geralt started making more of an effort with the others. He joined in conversations, tried to help out more than the minimum requirement, even made a few awkward attempts at jokes. They weren't always successful but, like any other skill, the rust was slowly wearing off the more he tried. Jaskier realised something had changed for the better the day he walked in on Vesemir painting Geralt's nails while they were trying to sing one of Jaskier's most recent creations, bitching how it was stuck in both their heads. There was nothing for it, Jaskier joined in the humming as he moved to stand behind Geralt and played fondly with his hair. He didn't expect Geralt to tip his head back and strain to press a kiss to his chin.

Winter slowly thawed. Jaskier was almost sorry for it. He had gotten used to the rhythm of a quiet life with the witchers. Surprisingly, he got several offers of travel from them, some more discreet than others. And he was faced with a choice. Except, it never was a choice really. There was only one witcher he curled up with each night. While he fondly chastised them all, there was only one that he kissed to silence their bickering.

By the time they could leave, the wolves unleashed from their den, Jaskier was content he'd made the right choice. He hugged the others goodbye, promising to return the next winter to spend another couple of months in their company, teaching them more mischief. While he wasn't allowed a pendant to declare him one of the wolves, he was given tokens of friendship from each witcher. Vesemir gave him a notebook to note all his adventures and songs in, Lambert pressed a rapier in his hand with a gruff "be safe". In direct contrast, Eskel gave him a vial of oil and a wink while Coen gifted him some silver strings for his lute. They were all lovely but nothing compared to Geralt pulling him up onto Roach behind him and making sure Jaskier had his arms firmly around his waist before riding out.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts welcome over on tumblr - @jaskiersvalley


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